


The Slaughter

by Starmaker5



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Mentions of genocide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starmaker5/pseuds/Starmaker5
Summary: As he dies, a soldier reflects on life, and finds that sometimes, hell doesn't mean leaving the mortal plane. (In Minecraft because there's no Minecraft Dungeons.)





	The Slaughter

I walk as I examine the villagers. They were trapped inside their wooden cages, glorified wooden fences, to be shipped to the mines. The moans of zombies and skeletons around, and the clacks of spiders.

I feel bad for them, ripped from their homes and set to hard labor at the whims of a child. And I notice it in my comrades eyes, they feel the same. Well, some of them. Others of them simply don't care, and some outright resent them for forcing us into this jungle. I don't blame them, the spiders and zombies creep me out. The skeletons aren't too bad in my opinion, they aren't as creepy as the enchanted sheep, or the mysterious Freer of Villagers.

Some hero was going around and saving the villagers, and honestly I'd be cheering them on...if it wasn't for the fact they show no mercy. They kill everyone in their path, and if ambushed, shall kill without mercy. Actually, that's their normal thing to do anyway. All that's known, is from recaptured villagers, and what remains of their rampages.

Suddenly, I hear a cry of alarm. There's an intruder! Remembering the words of the Arch Illiger, 'those who show any hesitancy will be used to power my orb for all eternity!' and his actions. Would I really disobey the will of the Dark Ancestors? I raise my axe into the air, and charge. But then something slammed into me, and bites into me. A wolf. A white one with streaks of red in it, And much to my amazement, a single strike and it's down. Lying dead in the grass.

But my joy of surviving is short lived. As someone swipes into me with a scythe with a swipe of raw pain. I cannot see their face, but they are wearing dark armour, and wielding a scythe. I know who it is. The Freer of Villagers. But I barely can think under a flash of pain. I raise my axe to defend myself, but then a swipe, and then another, and another as the scythe tears into me.

And then I fall down, the ground rushes up to me, my vision going black. But yet, but yet, I can still see. And as darkness and coldness claims me, I reflect on my life.

A young vindicator chased around his big brother as they played, laughter in the air like pollen.

A slightly older vindicator is panting as he keeps failing at getting the wood done. "It's ok!" his older brother said. "It took me forever to get it right!"

"B-but what if I'm never good at chopping wood?" The younger one asked, biting his lip. "The Elders will be so disappointed in me!"

"Then that's ok." the older one assured. "After all, the real reason we use axes? For defense. We will all eventually become an Ancestor, but to become one you must be able to survive long enough to have a family, and settle down. Prove to the Ancestors that we belong there, and not with The Loners."

Ha. I think as the darkness washes over me like a tidal wave, that never happened. So I guess I'm to become a loner.

Huh, so this is what death feels like. I think feeling neither at peace, nor an eternal desire for vengeance. I wonder if my family will ever know of my death. There are probably dead or soon to be, at this rate the Illager race is set to extinction. I didn't feel anything at that. Prepahs this is our punishment, for spawning such a thing into the world, and for allowing the Arch Illiger to get away unpunished. To be doomed to extinction.

I feel myself rise, and look down upon my own dead body. But to my amazement, instead of ascending or descending, I am instead inexplicitly pulled towards my killer. I guess I really am a Loner. So my brother is dead? And soon I fuse with an orb. Power engulfs me, but it's penetrating me, my very sense of being stripped away, like one would strip away clothing.

And the screaming! So much screaming! Begging for forgiveness, begging for their loved ones, begging to be let out, begging for any information on who they are, and simple cries of pain. The chorus dimmed slightly as one voice became louder, and I realized that my voice was joining their own, as I realized our situation was far more dire than I realized.

Our punishment was not to go extinct, our punishment was to go extinct and find no rest, not even in death. The Freer of Villages was really the Reaper of Illagers.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I found it odd that your treated as an undeniable hero, when you literally kill and enslave the souls of hundreds of soldiers. I'm not saying they were doing good things, just that it's entirely possible and even likely most of them were simply victims like the Villagers, just not put as easily seeable of a victim spot, and in a place capable of lashing out.


End file.
